Splatterpunk Auschwitz
by LastBishop
Summary: <html><head></head>When Bobby and Castiel are called in to assist the boys in huge monster hunt, they are captured by a renegade gang of demons in search of the Book of Sodom.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.**

**Title: Splatterpunk Auschwitz**

**Author: LastBishop**

**Rated M for a damn good reason.**

**Pairings: Castiel, Bobby, Meg**

**Summary: When Bobby and Castiel are called in to assist the boys in huge monster hunt, they are captured by a renegade gang of demons in search of the Book of Sodom.**

**Author's note: This story was the byproduct of reading Edward Lee, while watching Supernatural. I was also inspired by the episode "Frontireland." Be WARNED, this story will contain gross and gratuitous situations. You might need a barf bag at hand.**

**Chapter One**

The rancid stench of a sharp recipe comprised of old rusted metal, blood, urine, infected puss, and semen dripped down the walls in copious amounts causing Bobby Singer's stomach to turn summersaults. He feared he would be reacquainted with his breakfast very soon. _God, this was hell._

He was in a four wall cell, along with his winged and utterly useless comatose companion. The room resembled a small dungeon from the Celtic period, and was no bigger than his own make-shift panic room, perhaps smaller still. It was difficult to tell, for when the demons shut the door, almost every trace of light was swept away, allowing the darkness to swallow them both in one big gulp.

Bobby's hands ailed him like you wouldn't believe and his Sciatica was acting up. He was getting too damn old for this crap. Those Sons-A-Bitches had him hog-tied and thrown into this claustrophobic nightmare, while they injected Castiel with so much drugs that would drop an elephant.

Even though, they had ganged up and pummeled the angel into the dirt, not neglecting Bobby in the least with more than a few hard kicks in the old breadbasket, those bastards made damn sure Cas was conscious when they stuck him.

The identity of what was in all those syringes was a mystery to the older man. When the poor boy screamed during a few of the injections, Bobby could hear a high pitch screech from within the man himself. It was the angel inside that meat suit, Bobby concluded, crying out, begging for them to stop. The last poke and prod did the poor bastard in.

The room was as still and silent as the grave now. He didn't much care for it, either. The vacancy of sound gave the hunter goose flesh, and not much in this world or even out of it could give Bobby Singer the creeps. His old grey eyes sluggishly began to adjust to the cloudy darkness that surrounded him. He could spot very little within the room, but it was enough. He glimpsed the outline of the door, the glimmering bubbles of grime seeping down the nearest wall closest him and the outline of the still form of the hunter's cell mate.

Archaic thoughts stampede through Bobby Singer's noggin, galloping this way and that, ripping through his consciousness and dropping a massive stress migraine into the bowl of his aches and pains. He could still hear Dean's bitching about the Mother of All and a new nest of cross-bread ghouls near Buffalo, New York. He loved those boys like his own, but he new he babied those pantywaist idjits way too often and now they were calling in old _Feather Brain_ on their masquerades as well.

Bobby glanced over to where the angel was lying. He was on his back, with his hands flayed about him. The demons didn't bother tying Cas up, which nagged on the hunter's worry bone. Wobbling on his old creaking knees, discovering that they had lapsed into a state of hibernation, he attempted to move closer. Inch worm by inch worm, the older gentleman began his trek over the damp floor, sopping in an immense array of bodily fluids that did not generate from either soul.

With each twist and turn Bobby made, it felt to him that the rope cutting into his wrists would rip his hands from his arms. His shoulders felt like they were on fire, while his knees cooled in ghastly liquids. Slosh by slosh and squish by squish he made, stirred the odors making the air too sickening to breath. _He was going to yack._ Yet, Bobby Singer was just wadding in it, and the angel was bathing in the putrefied mess. He would NEVER get the stink out of that trench coat. A few more scoots and wiggles more the tops of the hunter's grimy knees brushed against Castiel's limp hand.

He could see the unconscious angel more clearly now. Swimming in at least three inches of that dark rancid much, Bobby could view the damage done by those black eyed bastards. Flowering stains of congealed blood speckled the angel's once white dress shirt, along with broken needles sticking out of his chest like flag poles around a golf course. His tie looked as it had been chewed on by a friggin shark, it was so tattered. All the while, the angel's face was a serene and emotionless as a statue. The emptiness in that face always seemed to bother the hunter. He did realize the angel could feel, for there were some instances he saw it along with the boys in bright lights and front row seats. Hell, if the world knew about the bastard, they would have parades for such rare occasions. He almost chuckled at himself, a clearly demented response in such a disturbing environment that shook Bobby to his core.

The veteran hunter's skittering thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of the lock bar unhinging.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.**

**Author's Note: *Holds out hands.* May I have some reviews, please?**

**Chapter Two**

Three demons stood looming in the door way, their black eyes gleaming. All women, dressed as if they were dinning out, with their trim bodies modeling skimpy cocktail dresses and hair salon styled. The brunette in the middle wearing a silk navy strapless was the one to speak first. "Rise and shine, boys! It's play time."

The strawberry blond at her right, sporting a flimsy ruby, red little number giggled and whined jumping up and down like a bratty three year old begging for serial in a supermarket, "Oh Mag, I want to go first! Let me go first. Pleeeease?" 'Mag' smiled a mischievous grin at the bouncing bimbo.

Bobby rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I suppose a cup of coffee would be asking too much," his voice sounded more horse than he remembered. The demons cackled at that.

"And I bet you would like some eggs, bacon, and homemade blueberry pancakes with that order," Mag laughed.

"Well, if this is the way we're gonna play, you tieing me up like a breedin' mare, than the least you could do is make a guy breakfast." More hackles and cackles spilled out of their painted mouths.

The raven haired demon to the left, began to step into the room towards where he kneeled, high heels squishing in the muck. If he wasn't nervous before, Bobby was now.

Stopping right in front of the hunter, her body blocking his view of Castiel, who had still not showed any sign of stirring, the woman spoke, her eyes full of malice and black as hell's darkest corner.

"You're funny," the bitch sneered. "Tell me, did the Winchesters get their delectable since of humor from you, or their real daddy?"

Bobby grit his teeth in response.

The painted whore caught on. "Aw, did that hurt your feelings? Poor baby." She kneeled, her dress dipping into the rancid waste soup. Taking his hat and tossing it aside, which peeved Bobby even more than being tied up, she cooed: "Now don't be that way. What happened to all the clever quips, huh." It wasn't a question. Moving her face not an inch away from his, she smiled. "You're the 'Funny Man,' right? So, tell me a joke…while you're gargling." With that, the sadistic bitch shoved Bobby face first into the macabre stew.

The bold stench assaulted his sinuses, making his eyes burn and tear. Stringy textures and gelled lumps invaded his mouth, coating Bobby's tongue and sticking to his teeth, while his nostrils flooded in the ghastly pool. He was going to drown.

"V, play nice," Mag directed, her voice sounding both pleased and annoyed, as if this 'V' was merely tickling the hunter. Bobby's helpless confined torso was abruptly swung backwards, allowing the toes of his boots to slap against the slopped floor. Gasping all the while in the stinking air. It was too much. The lack of oxygen, the flavor of blood, cum, and feces was overwhelming for his stomach, which forced out all of its contents it had gained in the last 12 hours or more.

V gracefully stood, her footing easily finding traction on the slippery surface. She never stopped smiling. Turning her head, she glanced over to the unresponsive angel. Making a quite un-lady like moan as she crouched almost on top of Castiel. "What a delicious treasure our boys have found." Her hands began to roam over the sleeping celestial's chest, then moved south. "They might deserve a treat after this."

Bobby was disgusted, well, with everything. "I doubt fondling an angle of the Lord, let alone a unconscious one, will get you anywhere but back into that pit." He cracked a smile when she stopped and looked back at the him. "Just an observation."

Here smiled broadened. "Oh darling, the things we will do to the both of you, hell wont dare take us back."

A pathetic whine interrupted the light conversation, "Maaaaaaaaaaag! I asked to go first."

"She's right, V. But you both know the rules. No desert before dinner." Mag's chiding drew the black haired whore away from Castiel. "Now, lets get these boys cleaned up." Smiling, the brunette motioned to someone in the hall out of Bobby's view point. "The fun's about to begin."

**_ One Hour Later**

Castiel screamed in agony, eyes shut to the horror around him. His vessel's body felt as it were being roasted from the inside out. His blood could have been boiling, all he knew. His grace was dwindling. Strapped to a chair, hooked up to a variety of iv's and catheters pumping him full of holy oil with a dash of hell hound blood to ignite it, the angel could still hear his fellow captive curse at the demons.

"YOU SONOFABITCH! YOU SICK FRIGGIN BASTARDS!" Bobby's voice was becoming more horse and gruff, but still as boisterous. Tied to a chair facing the tortured angel, and what all was being done to him, the old hunter regretted ever answering Dean's phone call. Like a damn father to those boys, he was always there to pull their sorry asses out of the fire, but where were they.

The two male demons in white coats turned back at him to smile. They were obviously enjoying every friggin minute. Returning their focus on the writhing Castiel, one of them fiddled with a bag leading to one an array of tubing stuck strategically in the angel's body. The poor bastard screamed again, and Bobby heard the high squawk of the celestial inside.

"That's enough, boys." Mag announced walking past the hunter towards the demented doctors. "I believe our guest is more compliant now." Cocking her had towards Bobby, "Don't you believe, Mr. Singer?" She winked an eye, then turned her attention to the slobbering, exhausted mess of a Holy entity. Cupping his chin with one hand and running her fingers through Castiel's dark locks. "Don't worry, baby. I believe you are going to enjoy our next game. Right, ladies?"

Bobby jerked his attention to the open doorway to his left side. The two bitches he met earlier stood with excited smiles smacked on their faces. _Oh God. Dean.. Sam, where the hell are you?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: **_I am a terrible terrible person. First, I don't update this story for months and now I write this chapter. I'm going to hell._

**Chapter Three**

Cries of anguish and agony rebounded against the metal walls, like firecrackers in a tin can. Such sounds took an inhuman quality in their tones as they echoed down the halls and corridors of the abandoned asylum. This was a place where Fear lived, Hopelessness bred, and Despair reigned. If this was not Hell, it was its twin domain.

Bobby wailed and thrashed about as the second six inch nail was driven into his right hand by the demon whore "V." It wasn't hammered, but slowly seesawed and shoved viciously through the delicate tissue of skin and tendons, splintering the complex little bones into jagged teeth, all the way through the blood stained wooden arm of his chair.

"GOD…STOP, STOP, STOP..OH GODDD…AHHHHHK!" Salty tears trailed down his blood flushed face. He didn't have a chance to catch his breath before the bitch started on his left hand. Expletives of all kinds spewed from Bobby's lips like sour milk. The demon mewed like a Queen in heat, savoring every cry and whimper from her captive's face.

With a split and snap of thin bones popping through the fragile skin and the creaking floor boards below his feet, the old hunter's vision began to cloud away. Sound began to turn down its own volume, while his stomach turned. Three of his fingers in his right hand and two in his left were numb now. Nerve damage can be a beautiful thing.

A calloused slap across his face brought him back. "Don't you checkout early, Big Boy. We haven't gotten to the good part yet." V whispered to Bobby before licking his ear sending frozen fingers down his spine.

"Okay, bring out our next contestant." Turning back to the fatigued hunter, she winked. With a thump and drag, the men in the white coats hauled a mangled figure through the steal doors. His skin was in ribbons hanging loosely and dripping blood. They had beaten him within an inch of his life. The poor bastard was naked and half nailed to a makeshift cross, crowned with barbwire. The way they made him drag himself on his knees, his hands like Bobby's firmly nailed down, but stretched out unto a thick wooden beam made his back arch into an impossible position. Inch by inch the pitiful thing crawled, stumbling over the massive wait and slipping on his own hemoglobin.

Every time he faltered, the demons laughed and kicked at him. V stooped beside the elder hunter and placed a thin piece of parchment on his lap, "Well, Grumpy, what do you think?"

Bobby looked down to see what the demon gave him. The parchment was old, ancient. Words or perhaps symbols were scratched upon it as well as a very detailed illustrations of a winged beast tied to a long pole. It was difficult to make out, but he could see a few more sketching centered around the bird like thing. Three creatures surrounded it as well as a fourth. The fourth was the largest of them. Drawn with canine like features, four legged, fur, and a large muzzle, Bobby could tell this was not exactly a dog or a wolf. It's teeth were bared in a snarl and was mounting the bird. _What the hell was this?_ "So, you gave me a porno pic of interspecies mating. What, got tired of traditional torture and decided to try a something new, huh? What is it? Death by confusion?"

"You're a card, you know that?" V laughed. Bobby in turn gave his best brave smile, making V almost hysterical. "Oh, I really thought you were the brains of this little outfit. That's right, I know you Bobby Singer. I know about your little library and all the HELP you so generously give to hunters. I also know about Twedle Dee and Twedle Dumb and derailing the whole Apocalypse shindig. So, you can cut the dumb blond act now, sweet'ums."

"What the hell are you jabbering on about?" The hunter hit the rewind button in his noggin to review what this bitch was really after.

"MY BOOK!" V stuck his face so hard, Bobby's teeth chomped the inside of his cheek filling his mouth with the metal flavor of blood. Hauking back the man gave the bitch a taste. Ruby saliva and pale mucus splattered against the demon woman's nose and lips.

V whipped at it and then cackled at such a futile show of payback. "Have it your way. I hope you enjoy the show." Motioning at the coated men, V blew the hunter a kiss.

The bastards took hold of the wrecked man and half pulled half threw him in front of Bobby's chair, the wooden plank hitting the floor not three inches away from his own foot. The shambled man turned up his face to the hunter's and not a second after Bobby caught sight of him, his face blanched.

"Cas?"

The angel's face was masked in congealed blood and dried sweat. His eyes were cloudy and distant, not seeing his friends horror struck expression. Not seeing the assortment of debauchery a head of him. Not seeing his innocence being ripped away right from under him.

V yanked up Castiel by the hair of his head and laid it in the old human's lap. "Balance," she cooed before spreading the angel's legs and securing his thighs to Bobby's chair legs with chains. Looking up threw fake lashes the demon smiled up at the old guy's face. "Think he needs a pillow first?"

"YOU CANT DO THIS. HE'S A ANGEL. PLEASE, please just tell me what you want. You mentioned a book, please, what what book?" Bobby's eyes began to tear. He couldn't let this happen. She wasn't really going to do this, was she?

"We'll talk about that later. It's play time now." Her spidery filangies began to roam over Castiel's flogged body, moistening them along the way with his own liquid iron. Skittering along the fatted check of his buttocks and down the opening of his crack, V's nimble fingers began their venture around the puckered rim.

The angel began to thrash about almost loosing the balance of the beam, before V took hold of it. "No, no, you disgusting whore. RELEASE ME!"

"Oh baby, you'll get your release soon. Trust me."

***Okay, may have some reviews, please?***


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